


Two sides of the same medal

by renawitch



Category: Highlander - All Media Types, Highlander: The Series, The Old Guard (Comics), The Old Guard (Movie 2020)
Genre: Alcohol, Angry Joe | Yusuf Al-Kaysani, Background Slash, Beer, F/M, First Meetings, Friends With Benefits, Friendship, Hurt Nicky | Nicolò di Genova, Immortality, Immortals, M/M, Meet the Family, Methos is Not Nice, Mild Sexual Content, Nicky | Nicolò di Genova Whump, On-Again/Off-Again Relationship, Reunions, Sorry there is no Nile here, Sparring, Swordfighting, Swords, Walk Into A Bar
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-23
Updated: 2021-01-02
Packaged: 2021-03-08 18:00:45
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 10
Words: 21,299
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27160828
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/renawitch/pseuds/renawitch
Summary: Six immortals meet in a bar in Seacouver.What actually happens when Andy and her team meet another kind of immortals?And what if immortality isn't the only thing that connects them to one of the old men opposite her?(Crossover with "Highlander" - The TV series)
Relationships: Andy | Andromache of Scythia & Methos (Highlander), Joe | Yusuf Al-Kaysani/Nicky | Nicolò di Genova, Methos/Yusuf Al-Kaysani
Comments: 7
Kudos: 66





	1. An evening at Joe`s

**Author's Note:**

> This is actually a pure just-for-fun-project of my wonderful Beta and great author SquirrelFeathers and me.
> 
> Unfortunately English is not our mother tongue.  
> We hope that you will forgive us small mistakes in expression and style and that you will like this story as much as we do.

The three men with this strangely bossy woman made Joe nervous. Not that he had a problem with confident female characters, but he had been an watcher long enough to know when he was dealing with immortals. Although he couldn't hear or feel them by their presence like Mac and Methos, the four of them, who had occupied a table in the dim background, seemed so timeless. They were one hundred percent immortals. If Joe had to guess, he would bet his prostheses that a thousand years were loosely gathered around the table.

Duncan would drop by here, as he does almost every evening. Methos had also announced to visit the bar today, because Joe would be playing with the band. The old man almost never missed one of Joe's gigs when he was in Seacouver. Of course, the old man would notice that there were already immortals there, but the bar owner was afraid he might think it was Duncan, Richie or Amanda. And when that happened, he would come in.  
The four of them seemed oddly military. Joe, who had lost both his legs in the Vietnam War, could see that quite well. They secured each other in a very conspicuous way. That frightened Joe.  
He knew only too well what immortals could do if they stuck together. The records of the watchers were full of them, the stories of the Four Horsemen of the Apocalypse had even made it into the Bible as horror stories.

Well, Duncan MacLeod had friends too, but it was mostly a kind of non-aggression pact. If he was honest, Duncan and Amanda were often more than that. Methos had even risked his life for Duncan and Richie enjoyed something like puppy protection. But the four of them in his bar looked like they didn't care about the rules of the game. They were not carrying swords.  
Joe knew exactly how to hide them in general. He even held training sessions on the subject with the watchers.  
But his new guests were still armed. The shoulder and boot holsters of the group had not escaped his notice. When an immortal was shot, a kitchen knife was enough to cut off his head if necessary. This was not in accordance with the rules, but Methos also often carried a revolver hidden on his body. Actually, he could hide all kinds of things under his shapeless jumpers.  
Don't interfere, just watch what the fuck is going on. Joe whistled at his oath of watching. He wouldn't hand his two best friends over to a gang of four strange and obviously unconventional immortals.  
The four of them were just too close together, barely keeping a distance. They would obviously not be deterred from standing up for each other, even if it contradicted everything Joe had ever heard about the laws of immortality.  
He should have built his damn bar on holy ground back then, just to be on the safe side. Now, at the sight of his more predatory guests, he regretted it immensely.  
There was only half an hour left until his gig, he hoped Methos and the Highlander would arrive on time so that Mike wouldn't have to wait so long in the cold.  
The only thing that made him sceptical was the fact that he had never heard of this group before. The woman with the impressive face looked familiar to him, though. Andy they called their partners, but he would swear that he had seen a drawing of her before, with a completely different name. The openly gay couple was completely unknown to him, as was the Frenchman with the unusual name Booker. On the other hand, it could be that the striking dialects spoken by the group were just camouflage. Methos spoke like a Welsh man, and he definitely didn't come from there.  
Joe tried to observe and record as much as he could.  
Maybe he was lucky and Methos or Duncan knew where to put the four of them.  
It was always terribly creepy when immortals stepped out of line. There were simply far too many psychopaths among them.  
Joe could only hope for the best.

Andromache carefully watched the guests of the bar, but as inconspicuously as possible. None of those present seemed conspicuous in any way, yet their gaze involuntarily glided back to one of the men behind the counter, always scrutinising.  
She estimated him to be in his late forties and he should have seemed harmless to her because of his handycap alone. Although the bartender was obviously severely handicapped, he made an extremely alert and more than suspicious impression on her. She knew this type of person well enough. Probably military or police trained, possibly experienced in undercover investigation or acting in secrecy. Men like him usually did not hesitate to assert their interests when they saw them in danger. Apparently he had a lot to say in this bar, because the other guy behind the counter did not question his instructions and complied with every one of his requests immediately.  
Joe caught Andy's attention as he gave her a thoughtful look.  
Wordlessly, she made him understand that he should keep an eye on the man behind the counter.  
He nodded, barely perceptibly, but did not yet turn his gaze to the person in question.  
The waitress came to her table and asked for her drinks.  
Booker gave her a friendly smile and ordered a bourbon, while Joe and Nicky chose water and Andy ordered a beer.  
A fleeting smile appeared on Andy's face. She felt as if she hadn't seen the others for years, yet only two months separated them, during which time Joe and Nicky had retired to Italy, Booker, as so often, was touring France and she herself was trying to get some rest in the USA.  
Of course that didn't work out and she was quite happy that they met here today in the small bar in Seacouver to plan their next steps.

MacLeod and Methos hurriedly turned into the street leading to Joe's Bar. From here you could already make out the neon sign pointing to the entrance.  
Duncan threw an annoyed glance at his watch. Only ten minutes left until Joe's performance started. How did he get the idea to walk here in the cold?  
He looked tense to the right and Methos grinned mischievously as he pulled his coat tighter around his shoulders.  
"You see, MacLeod? All is well. We have all the time in the world."  
Duncan raised an eyebrow in doubt. To enter into a discussion with Methos about punctuality was a breadless art and completely pointless. Yet he was just about to give a snappy reply when Mike, Joe's bartender, got in the way and stopped them just before they reached their destination.  
"Good thing you're on foot. Joe sent me. There are four guys in the bar looking like trouble. Joe thinks they might be here for you."  
Methos gnawed tense at his lower lip and Duncan frowned questioningly as they gazed at each other with meaningful looks and nodded slowly.  
That Joe warned them in this way could only mean that at least one of these guys very likely had to be an immortal. With a bit of bad luck, the whole group became her kind.  
Methos took a deep breath and Duncan discreetly checked the seat of the katana under his coat after Mike crossed the street and closed the door of the bar behind him.  
Then they did the same and entered the taproom after a few moments.

Duncan let his eyes wander over the crowd, then relaxed immediately. There were definitely no immortals in the bar, Joe was wrong. It was certainly interesting to find out what had deceived the trained watcher. He was about to address Methos jokingly when he noticed that his friend had this amused glint in his hazelnut brown eyes. Even the implied grin made the Highlander believe that Joe was in for a really hard time.  
"I'll have a beer."  
Irritated, the Highlander watched Methos take off his coat, draped his sword skillfully in it, and hogged a table right next to that of a good-looking woman and her three companions.  
Joe tried to point something out to them from the bar, probably related to his warning, but Mac couldn't figure it out. He would ask Joe after his performance who he had identified as immortal. In any case, there was nobody here. He also took off his coat and hid the katana under the table with a gliding movement. Methos had already collapsed on his chair and seemed mega relaxed.  
At the bar Joe had poured Adam's beer of the week and Duncan a Glen Grant. The waitress served the regulars immediately.  
Methos had stretched out his long legs under the table and had already lost all tension. Duncan decided to dedicate himself to the music of the opening band.  
"My name is Adam here, Adam Pierson."  
Duncan drove around in surprise and noticed that all the people at the table of four had turned towards Methos.  
"We're here privately, we can talk."  
It was the woman who had spoken. She fixated on Methos with a serious look.  
"This is nice, I was afraid you have a business here. Oh, I forgot. Mac, meet Andy, a good friend of mine. Of the gentlemen of her gang, I have only met Yusuf so far," he pointed to the gloomy looking man on Andy's left, "but I am glad to finally meet you all.  
Duncan had rarely seen his old friend so tidy. A performance as a good friend was almost a canonisation in Methos jargon. Duncan frowned briefly before he nodded his head to the four of them. Methos had put down his sword earlier, so he had little reservations about this Andy and her people. That meant he saw them as almost friends.  
Duncan sighed inwardly, they had only just found their old friendship again.  
After Kronos, the Horsemen of the Apocalypse, and after Byron, Duncan was absolutely not interested in meeting anyone else from Methos' past.  
But why would Methos mortals who were his apparent age point out that he was known here as Adam.  
Something was rotten here, but Duncan could not figure out what stank to high heaven.

"Adam also" a mocking smile flitted across Andy's face and she took a sip from her beer glass before continuing.  
"Adam, Remus, Methos, Alexander... So you haven't given up your penchant for emblematic names."  
"And you haven't given up yours in terms of consistency, andromache," he smiled mischievously.  
Both took another sip of their drink before Andy introduced the other members of their team.  
Booker nodded to the two men silently, but not unkindly. Joe scrutinised Duncan and smiled briefly before he turned his eyes to Methos and relaxed significantly. Nicky seemed open and relaxed. He was the only one who seemed to be completely unreserved.  
"Methos", he muttered pensive with his own light Italian accent. "I've heard that name somewhere before."  
Adam drew his attention to him, curiously tilted his head and grinned slyly.  
"That was probably a long time ago."  
"It's possible," Nicolo replied quietly with a questioning look at the clearly irritated Duncan.  
Methos was pretty sure what he was getting at. Apparently, either Yusuf or Andy himself had at least given one or two small anecdotes of their encounters with him in the course of a conversation, or perhaps even told more than that about him and his kind. 

Duncan cast questioning glances from one to the other.  
What just happened here? After this Andy had enumerated a whole list of Methos alter egos, it dawned on him that she must know much more about his friend than he seemed to like. Nevertheless, Adam remained more than relaxed towards the group Duncan was critically examining.  
"To be polite," Adam now laid a heavy hand on his shoulder, "we should probably explain to my good, very old friend what this one is all about," he described a suggested circle with the index finger of his other hand.  
Andy glanced questioningly into the faces of her boys and nodded slowly to let Methos know that she agreed to Adam's proposal.  
For a moment there was a tense silence and only the music of the support band loosened the mood a little. Finally, Methos took a deep breath and started to make a statement.  
"Andy and her boys are something like you and me."  
"You might say we're something of an immortal subspecies," Joe agreed with him.  
"A variation," Nicky corrected firmly and seriously.  
Duncan still didn't really understand where this supposed explanation would lead.  
"Just like you, we're not dying," Booker explained quietly, "but we're not taking part in your strange game."  
Duncan frowned questioningly and Nicky took a sip of water. "We can't either," he agreed with him. "You can't kill us. Nor can we," he glanced knowingly at Methos coat, in the folds of which lay the Ivanhoe, well hidden, "by decapitation.  
McLeod shook his head in disbelief. This could not be, what they were serving him was completely impossible!  
"What you call a Quickening we do not feel when we meet one of you or us. When we kill someone, their powers are not transferred to us, we don't usually go around chopping off people's heads and this stupid game is not ours," Yusuf added, shaking his head.

So Joe's instinct hadn't betrayed him, Duncan realised. He had realised, quite correctly, that there were four immortals in his bar and concluded that the group was causing trouble.  
That this was apparently not their intention was something the watcher could not see at first glance and he would certainly faint when he heard their story.


	2. Findings

Methos had not intervened once, had only slipped with his chair between Andy and this Yusuf. The two of them had also made room for him without hesitation. In a familiar gesture, the maghrebi laid his hand on Methos' thigh as a greeting.  
Duncan was seriously surprised that the old man allowed this to happen. But Methos seemed totally relaxed and Duncan wondered if this was another role he was playing.  
Doctor, lawyer, god, slave, Indian chief and friend of another race of immortals, Methos had been everything, and he was good at it. Duncan took a deep breath, if it was as they claimed, these people were more than dangerous.  
"If you're not playing the game, what are you doing?" Duncan hadn't wanted to ask such a platitudinous question, it had just slipped out.  
"Excuse me, it's none of my business," he added, "but Adam's friends always interest me. Have you known each other long?"  
Methos gave him a look that would have killed a rabbit, but he didn't say anything about it, just played around with the label of his beer bottle.  
"We're old friends," Andy interjected, with no emphasis on old. As she spoke, a smile glided across Methos face and she also saw the slight bowing of his head.  
Mac was a little irritated by the emerging laughter. Everyone here seemed to have more background knowledge than Duncan MacLeod of the Mcleod clan.  
"We met in Scythia, I was very young then. It was a few years ago. Adam was travelling there with two assholes and a dummy."  
That casual grin on Andy's face didn't fool Mac for a second. It couldn't be that the lady who was now sitting opposite him was already three or four thousand years old. That put her in the league of Cassandra.  
Duncan swallowed: "That old?"  
The Frenchman called Booker shook his head in irritation.  
"You don't ask a lady her age."  
Nicky, the Italian with the soft voice, interjected: " Andy's everything, but definitely not a lady, Sebastien."  
Even Methos now grinned wildly as he waved at the waitress. Everyone ordered more drinks and when Andy asked Adam, "At your expense?" and he just nodded with a smile, a world collapsed for Duncan.  
What went wrong here?  
Andy smiled maliciously.  
"Apparently we're among friends here and if Adam trusts you, you must be a halfway decent guy."  
Duncan almost spat his whisky over the table, it was getting weirder and weirder.  
"I'm about 6700 years old."  
He was probably the only one who was bowled over by this news. Everyone else was talking quietly or drinking.  
"Then you're older than Methos."  
She laughed out loud.  
"Sure I am, Methos is never older than 5,000 years, is it? If the five-thousand-year-old ever even existed."  
The unmoving face, the superior looking, cool eyes of the woman shocked Duncan.  
But when Methos whistled through his teeth and mocked: "I've forgotten what a treasure you are, Andromache", the Highlander almost fell off his chair.  
This promised to be an enlightening night.

Andy smiled provocatively while Nicky, Joe and Booker laughed cautiously.  
Duncan slid restlessly around on his chair. If Andy knew Methos from his riding days, it meant that she was not only very, very old, but must have seen him from his worst side. He was itching to find out exactly what it was that brought them together, but he would be careful not to ask too explicitly. He was also increasingly irritated by Methos' strange familiarity with the Oriental.  
He took another step forward with fascination, but his voice had that fragile, sinister tone that it always had when he was talking about bad events that affected himself or his friends.  
"You know each other from your days as rider?"  
Startled, he bit his lower lip. Damn it! What was he thinking with this question? Actually, it was just circling in his mind. He hadn't wanted to put it out loud at all, but somehow words seemed to be constantly coming from his lips today, which he should better keep to himself.  
Methos chewed fiercely on his lower lip, but he didn't answer with a single sound and grinded tense with his jaws.  
Duncan immediately regretted his move. His friend was more than reluctant to remember this dark episode of his life, and even less so to tell stories of the "good old days".

"I tried to kill him," Andy casually mentioned. "Several times," she added with a serious look at him. "And he tried pretty much the same thing on me."  
"Times were just different then," Methos tried to defend himself testibly.  
"You were a big fucking asshole, Adam. If I'd known then that all I had to do was cut off your head, you wouldn't be here today. And you would have more than deserved it at the time.  
He took a deep breath and gave her a surprisingly hostile look.  
Methos started to reply with a fiery response but controlled himself with difficulty and clenched his teeth. It was not important to him to let this pleasant encounter escalate.  
Duncan frowned doubtfully and let all his attention rest anxiously on his friend. It was as if the murderous Bronze Age alter ego flashed for a brief moment in his eyes.  
The mood suddenly cooled noticeably and a kind of tense silence lay between those present.  
Not a good turn of the conversation, Duncan thought angrily. What the hell had possessed him to bring up that damned subject? Of all things, the story about Methos' past as a horseman was a particularly delicate one. The suggestion that Andy might have been able to beat him in a fight at that point made the situation even worse.

Duncan felt overwhelmed by the situation. After the reunion of the horsemen and the death of Silas, Caspian and Kronos, he had not yet thematically returned to this thin ice. He hadn't really wanted to, but he lacked any idea how to get the people involved out of this situation safely.  
Nicky was the one who saved the situation. He joined in the conversation in a very calm manner and turned to Andy.  
"We cannot change who we once were, boss. We can only decide who we want to be today."  
She seemed to want to respond, but just put her head on edge and took another sip of beer.  
In the end, she nodded her head mildly in agreement.  
"You're right, Nicky. We all used to be somebody else."

It was on the tip of Methos tongue to answer that this was true for almost everyone. Except the upright, incredibly noble Duncan McLeod of the McLeod clan, but he wasn't going to open that barrel tonight. It would even be a bit unfair, because for his few hundred years Mac was actually quite far for an immortal. The rest of the illusions would be surely worn away by time.  
And those little quirks, especially the belief that he possessed any wisdom at all, were what bound him firmly to the Highlander.  
He didn't want to pour oil on the fire again, especially when he saw that Dawson was already tuning his guitar.  
So he lowered his head affirmatively.  
"That's the way it is. And some of us were already many others." ...as he gently ran his left hand across Andy's free arm.  
"Touché," the Frenchman said, while Andy laughed out loud.  
"Here's to change."  
Everyone toasted to that.  
"And to whatever remains the same," Methos added, causing another laugh.

Joe played "I'm looking for a love" as his first song and Methos couldn't prevent his gaze from catching on Mac for a moment.  
Nicky, who had watched it attentively, only said: "Cool song and the bartender is a good musician".  
Methos grinned, apparently Andromache had told more than just little stories about him. But he also knew that the old guard had hardly any secrets from each other.  
"The bartender's name is Joe, as is your friend, and he's a watcher and a good man."  
Andromache frowned.  
"Until now, I thought such things were mutually exclusive."  
"Andy, he's a friend. By the way, I was an watcher in this life too."  
"Adam Pierson is a watcher?" it burst out laughing, exchanging a quick glance with Andy.  
"Keep your friends close to you, but your enemies even closer," Methos murmured cryptically. "At least I was one until my early retirement," he replied pointedly. "And you don't have to exchange any secret signs to feel me out. I worked out the whole system with Andy."  
Smiling, Methos drank a deep sip of his beer before adding: "You are only in small fragments in the watchers' records. Not even your names appear in the texts."  
"Is that so?" Andy asked seriously.  
"Sweetheart. I have been following the activities of the Watchers since Gilgamesh. I know exactly which identified immortals are in their files, you can be sure of that. And you will not be found in them again."  
Methos leaned back on his chair, visibly satisfied.  
"To reliable, loyal friends," Nicky made the next toast.

Duncan had discovered a similarity between the two kinds of immortals, all of them seemed to have a liver that could handle vast quantities of alcohol.  
Nicky smiled inside himself before asking quietly, "Tell me, Adam, were you Gilgamesh?  
Joe almost spat his drink across the table, then gasped for air.  
Methos laughed resoundingly. "Yusuf, I understand that you would do anything for him. Your friend is really worth his weight in gold, I'm sure I would have taken him too if I had met him before you. But Nicky, to answer your question, I don't think so. Gilgamesh lived about five thousand years ago, and ...", Methos winked at the Highlander, "I remember almost nothing of that time.  
Now everyone was laughing at the table, even Duncan couldn't help but laugh. He liked the fact that even these others couldn't just drive the old man into a corner. Only the "I would have taken him too" irritated him increasingly.

Andy smiled pensive. "There were good times back then, weren't there? Nice short times in all those years?"  
Duncan finally saw the light. Something was going on! That strange familiarity between Andy and Methos, the touching, the glances, and the fact that they could verbally stand up to each other almost effortlessly.  
Methos nodded thoughtfully. "Sure there were, but you wanted to kill me."  
"You wanted to kill me too."  
Joe joined in the conversation laughing and gave Nicky a meaningful look. "One doesn't necessarily exclude the other."  
Booker delivered a hearty laugh. Grinning, he took refuge in another sip of his whisky glass.  
"So you still avoid immortals as lovers and spouses?" Andromache followed up.  
"Yes. That's just..."  
"Too much responsibility", Andy and Duncan finished his sentence for him almost simultaneously.  
Methos tilted his head and could not suppress an amused grin.  
"Besides," he added mockingly reprimanding Andy, "you didn't want to keep me permanently."  
So that was the answer to the open question about Methos relationship problems. He never entered into love relationships with immortals. He disguised it as one of his principles, one of his rules. More likely, however, it seemed that something had gone terribly wrong between him and Andromache and that he was trying to protect himself from another similar experience.  
"I am sure you found comfort in some protective arms and did not fall into melancholy for too long."  
Andy seemed incredibly relaxed and the members of her troupe also listened to this part of the conversation with interest.  
"It went like this. Two hundred and fifty-seven wild years are not forgotten overnight. I miss you to this day, of course." Methos smiled inside himself, so it was hard to see how serious he was about what he was saying. "But you're right. After all, I was married sixty-eight times after our little episode together."  
And now Methos let his eyes circle in the group until he captured the Highlander's brown eyes with his pattern, "the sixty-one women with whom I shared time made me happy, and the seven men no less."


	3. Friends with benefits

Nicky grinned mischievously and deeply amused, Joe fell into a cheerful laughter. Andy seemed strangely unmoved and Booker honestly concerned. He seemed to sense that there was more melancholy and regret behind Methos' reserved smile than he was willing to reveal.  
Duncan looked for a long moment as if lightning had struck him. He looked as if he was almost frozen in his chair and hardly seemed able to move at all.  
The fact that the old man had been married sixty-eight times was nothing new to him. The fact that his mortal spouses were joined by seven men in addition to the sixty-one women, however, shocked him immensely.  
He had portrayed this in a more pleasing way.  
He had never even remotely doubted that Methos was appealing and perhaps even a little mysterious to ladies, but Duncan had never considered that he was not averse to liaisons with men.

Methos could barely control himself, pressing his lips tightly together so as not to burst out laughing at the sight of MacLeod.  
He so loved to deeply confuse the Highlander and make him think.  
The fact that Duncan opened his mouth almost speechlessly to say something, but in the end didn't do it because he simply didn't have the words, amused the old man immensely.  
He just couldn't hold on to himself any longer, grinned broadly and looked at his friend undaunted.  
"What?", he asked stretched out as Duncan continued to stare at him stunned. "Oh, come on, Mac. I lived in ancient Greece, ancient Rome and Albion. As if being averse to one's own gender had ever been a big issue."  
Duncan sat across from him, still looking dismayed and nodding slowly without replying anything. Afterwards he took refuge in a hearty sip of his whisky. Methos assumed that the Highlander, still very much in the tradition of the old days, simply lacked the answer to this matter of course. He shrugged his shoulders in amusement and turned to Andy again.  
"As much as I enjoy talking about the good old days, I wonder what brings you here of all places.  
Andromache raised his head and looked seriously into his face.   
"I don't know, it's just a place where nobody knows us. Or nobody should know us. I didn't know we'd meet you here, if that's what you're thinking," she replied suspiciously and tilted her head. "I was afraid someone would have taken your head in the meantime. It's been a few years since the last time, after all."  
This amused shine entered Methos' eyes again, was only accentuated by his crooked grin. He didn't buy that she was really worried about him. The really serious time together had been far too long ago, the intervals between their irregular meetings were on the scale of decades or even centuries. The last time they had spent a few days together was during the Second World War somewhere in Europe. He did not really remember the place, let alone the year. He didn't care either. They each had a nice short time together and then separated again. Everyone had their own business to attend to and Andromache was often involved in jobs he didn't even want to know what they were.   
"You know me, Andy. I always think of myself first. It makes survival a lot easier."

Yusuf and Andy exchanged a conspiratorial look, after which she nodded in agreement and Sebastien took the floor.  
"We've had a bit of a break lately, but now we're looking at the possibilities for new jobs and deciding which one to take on next."  
"So just a short break?"  
Methos' question seemed innocent, but the sparkling, ambiguous look he gave Andy, challenging him after he nodded at Booker knowingly, required no further explanation.

"If you do spend a little time here, do you think it's important that I start flirting, or can I save it and you sleep with me tonight?  
Andy leaned back, scrutinising her seat mate closely.  
"What makes you think we'll automatically end up in bed every time we see each other?"  
"Because I am very old and very wise." Methos managed to make this answer sound so that one could feel that he himself did not really take it seriously.  
Nicky laughed out loud, then spoke to his partner. "You really haven't promised me too much, Adam is quite surprising."  
"Standard answers that have actually proven their worth in five thousand years?" asked Booker, shaking his head and sceptical.  
"No," winked Andy, "it's not just because of his tender age, Booker, he's just good at it."  
Duncan took a breath twice, he noticed himself clearly reaching his limits. This gang was exhausting. Methos too, but at least he was his friend, at least he hoped so.  
Duncan thought he was someone without too much conceit, but it was this sort of immortal that pushed him to his limits. He liked emancipated women, strong women, but this andromache was more, much more than he imagined.  
He would have been interested now if the translation of her name 'the one fighting like a man' had any real meaning. When he imagined her smooth, eloquent movements, he almost assumed it did. In any case, he would not make the mistake of underestimating any of them. Mac didn't want to think about what the fact of not being able to kill at all made of a human being. 

Dawson just finished his last song and at least Methos, Mac and also Nicky joined in the applause that was everywhere.  
"Dawson has received a new delivery from a micro-brewery. Would you like to try it? He orders there especially for me."  
"Is there a reason why we should?" Andy asked with a frown.  
"Not for your people, but you definitely need to test it. And it's not because I want to drink you under the table."  
"Then why?" Andromache suddenly seemed very interested.  
"Because the owner of this brewery is an incredibly great guy and works with really old recipes. And because this batch is an attempt to approach Scythian beer. It's really well received by the customers, by the way."  
Andy squinted his eyes together and nodded: "Then give me the poison, it won't kill us right away.  
This was the first time Duncan could enter the emerging laughter with relief.  
Look at that, it crossed his mind, the old man had a brewery, he really should have thought so.  
When Joe Dawson had shaken off his groupies and was standing behind the bar again, Methos stood up, apparently to order the promised beer.

Methos, who knew that Joe usually disappeared into his office to rest after a gig, knew exactly why this was not the case today.  
"Curiosity is the death of rabbits, Joe!"   
Dawson pulled his eyebrows together and was about to release a mocking sentence when he noticed the absolute seriousness in Methos' voice.  
"What are you trying to tell me?"  
"Joe, don't send an watcher after them. They'd kill him without a trace of doubt. This is no joke. Just close your eyes and ears, and be smart. This is a long way from a game. They won't tolerate anyone following them. Not for a second. How much of that new beer did you actually order?"  
Dawson looked into his friend's eyes and when he saw that Adam had just been sent on an apparent holiday and replaced with 100% methos, he just nodded seriously. Such a clear warning from the ROG, who liked to express himself vaguely, he didn't want to ignore.  
"That's all right, Adam, and I've got three boxes of it in storage.  
"Then I'd like to go a few rounds."  
"You? Really? Does this mean you're gonna pay your bills today?"  
"If you keep your end of the bargain with these people, I'll even pay for a new neon sign."

Duncan felt out of place. None of his neighbours at the table seemed to inspire him with confidence. He still didn't know what they were doing with their immortality, but he was quite sure that these people should be treated with caution.  
When Methos left the table to order the beer from Joe at the counter, which should be his property anyway, there was an oppressive silence between him and the old guard.  
It was Sebastien, the one they called Booker, who quietly turned to him and greeted him in a friendly gesture with the whisky glass.  
"Now you have heard so much about your friend and our boss, but you still have questions. We know the stories about Methos or even Adam. Some of us meet him for the first time today, but we know that he is clean as far as we are concerned. You are his friend. So we assume we can trust you, but none of us have any idea who you really are."  
It was a simple statement and it hit the nail on the head. Duncan returned the greeting with the drink and leaned back in his chair with a decidedly casual touch.  
Right, he mused. Methos had called him a friend, but hadn't really introduced him. This Andy had occupied his attention too much. Almost as if the old man had forgotten everything else around him.  
"The only thing I know for sure is that you are from Scotland," Booker continued.  
Duncan looked up in surprise.  
"Yes, I am Scottish. Has my name betrayed me?"  
Sebastien laughed with amusement. "No, not the name, it's the way you speak when you speak. That Scottish touch is unmistakable, if you've ever heard it."  
MacLeod weighed his head questioningly and frowned as Booker set about explaining.  
"There is no need for you to be surprised. I lived in the Highlands for a while. It's a nice area for Duisky and the whisky's good."  
"Duisky?" Duncan was taken aback. "My family's from Glenfinnan. It's only a few miles from there."  
Booker escaped with a cheerful laugh.  
"Madre mia, you are a Highlander! Guys, there's not going to be a problem with this one. Anyone who comes from this Highland corner is definitely a loyal team player."  
Duncan breathed a sigh of relief. He hadn't expected that his mere origins would one day open semi-closed doors and gates to him.  
The mood brightened noticeably when he explained who he was and where he came from.  
"An antiquarian bookshop and a dojo," Joe remarked. "This is a strange mixture. Do you still take pupils?"  
Duncan raised both eyebrows in amazement. "A select few, yes," he jokingly added, "Are you planning to take a trial lesson?"  
Yusuf gave him a wolfish smile. "Why not? The way things are developing here," he threw an amused look at Methos at the bar, "we'll probably be in town for a few more days. And it doesn't look like the jobs here are on the street to pass the time with."  
Duncan was on the tip of his tongue when asked what exactly these jobs were, but was careful not to say it out loud. In his opinion, he had already said far too much and unintentionally directed the conversation to topics that should not have been discussed. So he denied himself curiosity and would later ask Methos about it, unless he and Andy had run off together during the evening.  
MacLeod tilted his head, described an inviting hand movement and heard himself say to Yusuf: "Well, mi casa es su casa.  
Nicky gladly accepted the offer. "In that case, why don't we all come over tomorrow and play?" 

When Methos came back to the table with a few bottles of beer, the previously oppressive silence had changed into an almost pleasant atmosphere.  
MacLeod noticed out of the corner of his eye how Joe looked at the group from the counter as suspiciously as secretly.  
He inconspicuously gave Methos a questioning look and suspected more than he saw the old man shaking his head in a barely visible negation. Well done, Duncan thought. It was better that Dawson stayed away for now, although he was probably desperately interested in what they were up to.  
Methos had assured the old guard that there was no record of them in the watchers' files. Had they once existed? What exactly were the contents of these notes and why did Methos himself make sure that they were destroyed or untraceable?  
Why had no one, not even an immortal Duncan knew, ever said a word about this kind of immortality? Could it really be that no one knew of their existence except perhaps themselves and Methos? How many more surprises would emerge from the cellar?

The old man handed everyone at the table a bottle of beer, dropped himself swingingly onto his chair between Andy and Yusuf, and cast expectant glances around.  
Andy nodded approvingly and cheered him on.  
"You can tell your brewmaster that this is already quite good, but he should increase the amount of millet a little more."  
Booker laughed out loud and all the others fell asleep. The amused glow returned to Methos' eyes. The little praise from Andromache's mouth was almost like a knighthood.  
"So what's it gonna be, are you staying longer or can I just plan on this one night?"


	4. Immoral offers

Andy shook her head in amusement.  
"You never change, do you, Adam?" She stressed the name. "Anyone else would just ask, only you associate the possibility of planning."  
Methos didn't answer unless they considered the brief tuck of his eyebrows.  
"Is it a coincidence that Scythian beer of all things is stockpiled here?"  
Nicky watched closely as Methos reacted to having Andy's full attention. Most men became insecure very quickly. This one hardly reacted at all, it didn't fit at all with the gestures that "Adam" was based on. Nicky decided to heed what Yusuf had told him about his meeting with Andy's old lover. But that was really a story for another day, but when he thought about it, he would have loved to hear Methos' version of the incident.  
"Of course, I liked this beer. Otherwise, it's pure coincidence. I also brew Roman and Egyptian"  
The slight lowering of the head caused Andy to frown on her part.  
"I guess we'll have to talk about some things tonight, Adam, in addition to various other activities. But new topic, who actually rid the world of that idiot Kronos, because it certainly wasn't you?"  
Methos folded his hands over his absent stomach, gazed meaningfully at MacLeod and all eyes turned abruptly to the Highlander as well.  
Andromache nodded approvingly. "An honest sword fight, without any tricks? Hard to believe."  
Duncan affirmed, at the same time the distraction of Methos came into his head, who, through his fight with Silas, surprisingly proved that he had changed sides. Kronos had clearly lost his momentum, and that gave him a little more momentum himself. Actually, this turn of events decided the fight, if he was honest.  
Duncan wondered how much manipulation lay behind all this. Actually, he didn't want to know the answer. That was probably one of the thousands of regrets that one accumulates in an immortal life.  
Andy seemed surprised, glanced at her old lover with a glance, before she spoke to Duncan again.  
"Then you are much better with the sword than I would have suspected. What weapon did you hit him with?"  
At the same time she turned to her people. "You should not underestimate them. Unlike us, they only use cutting and stabbing weapons in their game. They are much deeper in swordplay than you think."  
Mac, who found it interesting that this group, although they were not in the game, apparently did not only deal with revolvers, answered Andy's question addressed to him.  
"I have preferred a katana for many years."  
She grinned smugly, "An Asian blade weapon? That's unusual for a Scottish Highlander. Do you know what a labrys is?"  
"I once saw a Syrian labrys in an antique bookstore, but I've never fought with a double axe, let alone met anyone who used one."  
Again, a wolfish grin slipped away from her. "Well then, welcome to the premiere. Mine is a special edition. It can be handled faster and better with a few modifications. I think I'll just bring it with me tomorrow when I drop Adam off a bit disheveled at your dojo. Maybe there will be an opportunity for a little fun?"  
Methos didn't even begin to react to the mockery. He devoted himself self-satisfied to the next bottle of beer.  
Nicky, who watched the whole event calmly as usual and noticed that the Scotsman didn't seem to be entirely averse, exchanged a quick glance with Yusuf, who nodded at him barely visible.  
"The weapon the boss probably suspected you of having is mine. With a Highlander I would have expected a broadsword like mine as well.  
He gave Methos a thoughtful look before turning to him. "Adam, Andy told me about you, that you carry this weapon too. I often train with Joe, but he prefers his saber and that's not the same as training with the same weapons. I wouldn't be averse to training with someone who was fit in my brand of weaponry."  
Methos exchanged a quick glance with Andromache. What kind of communication was taking place escaped even the other members of the old guard.  
The old man swallowed strained and concentrated fully on his interlocutor.  
"Nicky, I generally avoid fighting these days. I would rather not have training with you."  
Abruptly he turned to Andy, who had cleared her throat loudly and looked at him suspiciously."Now don't look at me like that. I know exactly what you are thinking and no, I didn't say that. I am not tired of my life, quite the contrary. I just want absolutely no additional problems. A fight between our two races has a lot of really serious potential for conflict. I am convinced that most conflicts are not worth the risk.  
"I understand what you mean," Andy nodded, "but we've all been adults and disciplined for centuries. We can make rules, and we can give each other firearms to make sure they are followed. That thing you're wearing under that ugly, shapeless jumper is certainly not the extension of your cock, is it?"  
"You want me to have a serious fight with one of your men? Really?"  
"Yeah. If that's what Nicky wants. It's OK with me" Andromache glanced invitingly towards the bar where Joe had eagerly begun polishing a beer glass for the tenth time in fifteen minutes. "You are welcome to take your friend along with his gun. He watches over you two like a mother hen watches over her newly hatched chicks. If you warn him about us, you seem to trust him.

Methos put on a wry grin when Andy spoke of Dawson and his warning to him. He should have known that she missed almost nothing. She was one of the few people who could read him well. Hopefully she knew that it worked in every direction.  
"Oh, I'm sure Joe would've loved it, I just don't know how I feel about it yet."  
"Oh, come on, old man," Andromache teased him. "Are you scared?Nicky can take care of himself and he is really good with the sword. Go on, do him that little favour, or are you worried that you won't be able to do it after the next night?"  
Methos ignored her mockery and carefully weighed his head back and forth while his potential opponent looked at him with a friendly smile. The prospect of a fight with one of Andy's boys did not appeal to him. Andromache made a point of making sure that her people understood their craft absolutely and Nicky, according to Yusuf's earlier statements, should be of a similar age to this one. Thousands of years of sword fighting experience did not even raise many immortals of his own kind. If, like Nicky, you had nothing to lose - not even your head - it certainly didn't exactly make you exercise noble restraint in combat.  
In the end, Methos had no idea what was leading him to give in to the Italian's request. He just hoped that it wasn't because Andy had let his testosterone levels soar. Hopefully he wouldn't regret it or make a complete fool of himself tomorrow.  
"Fine, but actually I'm too old for this shit. If you really want to, I'll get into it tomorrow," he sighed resignedly. "But only because I've owed your boss a favour for ages.  
Nicky smiled winningly and nodded obviously pleased.

Duncan looked at his watch. He let his gaze glide through the well-attended guest room. Joe's gig had filled the place up pretty quickly and the amount of guests pushed even the experienced waitress to her limits.  
By gently shaking the bottle, he signalled to the others that his beer was empty and rose leisurely.  
"I'm going to get one last of that beer. Anyone else?"  
Andy was the only one who nodded.  
"If you go to this Joe at the bar, please invite him to our little training session tomorrow morning. He's welcome to bring the revolver he carries under his clothes if he prefers. Adam will probably not have the opportunity to ask him tonight. He will be too busy."  
For a long moment, Duncan replied nothing, just staring at her in irritation.  
How did she know about Joe's gun? As if she had guessed his thoughts, she stared at him with a serious look and added: "Shall we say tomorrow morning, around ten o'clock?  
Methos humbly lowered his head, but could not help but smile contentedly. Andromache noticed it immediately, raised an eyebrow and corrected himself.  
"Better say tomorrow at noon, around twelve. He will be busy for a long time."  
Duncan nodded a little faster than expected and left the table almost in a hurry.  
That lady was just... my goodness, he couldn't even find a word for it. Even Methos seemed to bend to her will with almost no resistance.

Joe eyed him questioningly and with a worried look as he came to the counter and ordered a Scythian beer.  
"Who the hell are they, Mac? I've never read or heard anything about them, but if they are not immortals, then I'm going to file my pension with the Watchers."  
Duncan sighed melancholically and looked back towards the table. He felt somehow sorry for Joe. He himself was already struggling with the realisation that there was apparently another race of immortals. Joe, on the other hand, would perhaps seriously doubt his job as a watcher if he heard about it.  
"Old friends. Very, very old friends of Methos, I fear. And yes, you are right, they are immortal. All four of them," he turned back to Dawson, who was now looking at him in a really confused way.  
"But I have nothing on them..."  
"Yes," Duncan interrupted him. "They are... different."  
"They're armed to the teeth, MacLeod. And I don't mean swords. They look like a bunch of damn mercenaries to me!"  
Duncan nodded thoughtfully. "Wouldn't surprise me if they were."  
He took a sip of the bitter beer and suddenly realised again why this drink was not necessarily one of his favourites.  
"Are you free for lunch tomorrow? Around noon?"  
Joe looked at him questioningly. "What's tomorrow at twelve o'clock?"  
"I'm afraid that tomorrow we'll be served a sample of all their skills."  
His friend shook his head uncomprehendingly and doubtfully narrowed his eyes to slits.  
"Tomorrow around twelve o'clock, Methos will get involved with one of them in my dojo in what they call a practice fight. And to make sure things don't get out of hand, we need someone else who is good with firearms.  
Dawson raised both eyebrows in complete amazement.  
"Out of hand... Oh, Mac, no, don't do that. You got the wrong guy, and..."  
"Oh, Joe. Just don't start with your oath of watching right now. You're already blown. They've known who you were for over an hour and it's not even Methos' fault. They would've figured it out for themselves tonight. Andromache had you in mind right after they entered the bar. You have no choice anyway. I'm afraid they'll insist on your presence and that of your gun. Even if I'm anything but enthusiastic about the idea."  
He put the half-empty bottle of beer back on the counter, grabbed another full one for Andromache and made preparations to go back to the table when he turned to Joe again.  
"Tomorrow noon, shortly before twelve. Do not forget. And Joe," he looked over at him pitifully and seriously, "please take care of yourself. These people are really not without danger." 

He looked tense at his watch. Almost twenty-three o'clock. It was high time he came home. If this little exercise session with Andy was really going to take place tomorrow, he'd better be fit and well rested. He suspected that Methos would probably not get to sleep in.  
He threw himself into his coat and, with a short, barely visible movement, took the hidden katana again to hide it under the fabric. He placed the beer bottle for Andromache on the table in front of her.  
"As sorry as I am, ladies and gentlemen, but I should say goodbye. Joe will be there tomorrow. I bid you all a good night."  
Booker looked at him amused and frowned doubtfully.  
"Was this a goodbye or a getaway?"  
Methos shrugged helplessly.  
"Probably a bit of both," he remarked and drank the rest from his beer bottle.  
"You are terrible."  
Then he squinted his eyes together, collapsed in his chair, cheered on the old guard.  
"You have no idea how happy this makes me. He really deserves it."


	5. Fifty three years

"Shall we go to a hotel?"  
He looked at her with indignation. "Oh no, there's no way I'm letting you drag me to a joint like this. I have a nice, comfortable flat here."  
"Adam, I know exactly what you mean by comfortable. Answer me one question. Besides books, is there anything as ordinary as a bed?"  
"The shadow of a smile appeared on Mehto's face.  
"My dear, even if you can't imagine it, there is a bed. There are carpets on the floor. I have a really solid oak table, walls and even a bathroom."  
"Then let's go and see if we can put as much of these things to use as possible. I'm glad."  
Methos nodded thoughtfully, put on an almost pitiful expression, grabbed his coat and let Andy go ahead.

The three remaining members of the old guard cast amused glances at each other with a grin. Booker tried to get a glimpse of Adam's sword, but he was just as unsuccessful as he had been with this Duncan.  
"That's quite a remarkable technique to camouflage the swords. I think it's a mixture of skill and distraction."  
Nicky laughed softly. "If you say so. I would understand if Yusuf and I were distracted by these two men, but with you it makes me wonder a little."  
Booker shook his head defensively. "What does it look like? Another drink? Or are we going to call it a day?"  
Yusuf, who had been almost in the background all evening and was content to watch the action, said, "No. No more. But something else is on my mind. It's pretty amazing, isn't it?"  
Booker tilted his head in question. "What are you talking about?"  
"Haven't you noticed? "The boss likes Adam, and by that I mean she actually trusts him. I wasn't expecting this. Well, I know they have a history. But I guess I underestimated them."  
Booker frowned. "I thought you knew him too."  
"Oh, yeah, I guess I do. I was pretty young. Younger than you are now. Nicky and I had just trashed out our differences, and I was travelling with Andy in al-Andalus in the twelfth century. We were to meet Nicky a few days later in Málaga.  
The Italian nodded in agreement. "While Joe and Andy smuggled the freed slaves from Silves through the country at night, a ship organised by me was waiting in the port of Málaga to take them to Genoa."  
"Something went terribly wrong. I can't remember exactly what, but I ended up being captured and killed several times."  
Yusuf shook his head in shuddering horror and frowned with bad memories before continuing with his story.  
"I had been tied to a pillory as a traitor, and until they were able to figure out how to kill me for good, I was pelted with old vegetables and stones. He was one of those people I had been imprisoned by.  
When the leaders realised that I could not be killed, they thought i was a demon, as they had done so often before. They decided to wall me in the next morning to make sure that I would disappear from the world permanently.  
Methos mocked me then, when he saw me tied up there. He laughed, took a rotten apple and threw it directly at my forehead. When my gaze fell on him, he grinned gloatingly, and I had no idea that Andy had already been working with him to get me out of there. In the middle of the night he stood in front of me, tampering with the chains. At first I couldn't believe that he wanted to free me. I only found out what was really going on when Andy joined him and we disappeared together. He even brought my saber with him. We rode together for a few days. So I owe him something, but I don't trust him unconditionally. He avoids fights, and he prefers to flee before he kills. He really doesn't care if you think he's a coward. And that even though he is a very dangerous fighter, if he decides to turn himself in. He is quite confusing."  
Booker nodded thoughtfully. He would not have needed this hint. He had not remotely intended to rely on either of the two men without reassurance. Neither this Adam Pierson nor Duncan McLeod. At least not after he had spent no more time with them than half an evening in a bar at the end of the world. He got up after even Nicky didn't want to order anything more and went to the bar to Joe Dawson to ask for their bill.  
"Oh," he said and waved in the negative, "our mutual friend Adam has already paid the bill. I'll see you tomorrow."  
Booker appreciated the friendly, almost jovial smile, as he could interpret the steely gaze as the bartender added:  
"I'm looking forward to noon tomorrow, you can never have too many friends, can you? I will be at the dojo at noon on the dot".  
On leaving the bar, Nicky whispered to Yusuf, "What a crazy city, this Seacouver. Even disabled mortals wouldn't shy away from open conflict with heavily armed strangers here in an emergency."

Andromache laughed out loud as Methos opened the door to his flat and looked around in it in amusement. The crazy mess of different art styles and contemporary junk probably shocked every visitor at first. Andy felt strangely nostalgic about the old mine in France, where she had kept her own stuff for centuries.  
"If it is true that a flat reveals the character of its owner, then this is a clear statement". Andy watched Methos hanging up his coat. He casually placed the sword on a small table.  
"You still run the Ivanhoe?"  
He grinned wolfishly and stroked gently across the handle of the weapon. "I am not only old, Andromache, I am also very faithful. Surely you haven't forgotten that?"  
Andy smiled cool. "Is this a reference to our farewell, back in Judea?"  
Methos didn't answer, just looked at her with melancholy eyes. Finally he shrugged his shoulders regretfully.  
"I could not stay. Kronos was after me. I had to leave."  
She shook her head unwillingly. "I would've gone with you, you bloody fool."  
"And Quynh? Lycon? Would they have gone with me too? Did you ask them? You had just found Lycon and he suited you so much better than me. Damn it, Andy, he was of your own kind, while every day I had to reckon with Kronos or someone else taking my head."  
He noticed how she reluctantly grinded her jaws, pinched a snappy reply and let her gaze wander over the artwork. Small, valuable, truly ancient works of art were hidden among tons of modern junk.  
Their attention was caught by an artistic female statue made of white marble.  
"Methos, seriously?" She stood in front of the statue with her legs apart and looked at it critically. Methos caught up with her, embraced her from behind and whispered in her ear: "This warrior is beautiful. Almost as beautiful as the original." He bit her earlobe hard.  
"You damn bastard."  
He laughed that smile she knew only too well how it was meant, but at least he carefully backed away from her.  
"Oh, no, please, not the big cat act." He tried to flee. With a giant leap she chased after him and got hold of him by the much too big jumper. She pulled him towards her with a jerk, tearing the fabric open across his back with an ugly sound.  
She grazed his cheek with her lip and whispered harshly, "I'm sorry."  
He smiled mischievously, knowing that she did not mean these words seriously. She did not care. Even if she had to cut his entire wardrobe into strips with a knife to get what she wanted, she would do it without even a thought for the clothes.  
"I'd love to. I've got more of that stuff," he murmured hoarsely, pulled the remains of the cloth from his body and threw it carelessly to the ground.  
With a small flick of the wrist she opened the buckle of his shoulder holster and laughed knowingly as he took off his jeans and she discovered the diving knife attached to his calf.  
She pulled her shirt over her head in one fluid motion and Methos put his right hand on the Glock, which was loosely tucked into her waistband. It found a place next to his Ivanhoe on the small table next to the entrance, as did Andy's Beretta with her thigh holster.  
Methos raised an eyebrow inquiringly, but in fact she didn't carry a knife and she seemed to have left the Labrys in the safe house.  
As they stood naked and unarmed in front of each other, looking at each other, it was Methos who first said, "Oh, I was so right. Not even the best artist can come anywhere near the original."

Andy smiled confident of victory and took a step closer. The movement with which she reached into his hair with both hands was so purposeful and fast that he only noticed it when she pulled him towards her stormy head. Together they stumbled into what he called his kitchen.  
He feverishly grabbed her waist, lifted her up on his hips in one turn and, without realising it, bounced against the door of the fridge, which opened with a faint glow of light.  
The next moment Andromache held a bottle of beer in her hand.  
It fell from her fingers as Methos pushed her firmly and unyieldingly backwards onto the heavy oak table.  
"Fifty three years, damn it," he whispered breathlessly, "I'm such an idiot. How could I have waited so long for you?"


	6. The day after

The flat offered a picture of complete devastation.  
Various items of clothing were spread all over the living space. In the kitchen, the contents of several overturned beverage bottles dripped from the edge of the table, forming a pool on the tiles below. Some of the metal works of art had not survived the hurricane that had apparently raged through the flat.  
Two chairs, which were actually part of the oak table, were found lying on the floor next to the puddle of drinks, and even the bulky reading chair with the high back was lying on its side. Unspeakable forces must have been used to knock the massive piece over.  
The chaos spread through the whole flat. Several books were missing from the heavy shelf in the living room. It seemed as if someone had swept them from their place in a nervous movement like old toys and left them scattered on the floor. The blanket from the bedroom shared this fate and the rest of the bed was completely rumpled.

Andy enjoyed the hot water running down her back. She enjoyed even more that she was not alone in the big shower.  
Methos, Adam, whatever he called himself, let his right hand slide over her hip, stroking the tip of his nose gently across her neck and playfully biting her shoulder.  
She laughed relaxed, turned to him and pressed him against the tiled wall.  
"Nana, don't get too greedy, Remus, my darling."  
"You know," he whispered hoarsely in her ear, "of all my names, I liked that one the least."  
She put one hand on his chest, increased the pressure on it, and with the other grabbed his right wrist. She held it like a vice. Relentlessly she nailed him in this way, almost immobilizing him under the hot water jet.  
"That may be because," she replied quietly, "it is the name of a slave.  
Something in his eyes flashed up briefly. Not even Andy could tell if it was anger, shame or anything else, but immediately after this sentence he almost effortlessly wriggled out of her grip, grabbed her by the wrist, dived under her and suddenly stood behind her. With a jerk he forced her to turn around and face him.  
"Careful, Andromache. I am only the nice Adam Pierson when it gives me an advantage. The methos you know from the Bronze Age is still in here somewhere."  
She smiled viciously and raised her knee until it slipped between his legs. With her free hand, she grabbed his crotch unabashedly.  
"I finished with him then too, if you remember."  
Methos could hardly hold back a soft laugh and lifted her up to his hip.  
It was only eight in the morning. They had a full three hours left.  
They intended to make good use of it.

At some point, however, it was enough for the two thousand year olds. With a sigh they separated from each other.  
Andy said dryly: "I hope you have enough hot water. Your floor is dirty and wet. We'll definitely have to take another shower."  
Methos took a look at his devastated home and smiled only amused.  
"I wanted to redecorate a little anyway. What do you mean, breakfast?" he said, shrugging his shoulders.  
Andy looked sceptical. She couldn't quite imagine what her old friend called breakfast these days.  
"What could there be besides beer? You're not the type to have buns at home to bake."  
"True. I'm not. But you won't believe it, Adam Pierson is different. He's charming, eternal student and terribly hungry. And he has an older friend in the bakery downstairs who would love to fatten him up. When he gets up hungry and calls her, she immediately brings up some croissants or rolls or whatever. What would you like to eat, my most beautiful andromache?"  
"Ah, I see, so this Adam is a lovable character?!"  
Methos smiled, pulled her towards him again in a pleading gesture, kissed her tenderly on the temple.  
"No, I am the lovable one, Adam is nice, poor, a bit socially inhibited, a typical academic genius, shy. Everyone feels good in his presence. So what do we eat?"

A short time later, the table was cleaned, the two of them were sitting on the reconstructed chairs.  
Andy, after her chair had wobbled a bit, had put a little booklet underneath.  
Methos had even brewed strong coffee, the croissants ate them straight out of the bag.  
"Poor Mr. Pierson will have to re-glue this."  
"Oh, no, he doesn't need it, he doesn't get many visitors, he can manage with a single chair."  
Methos gave her an exaggerated wink.  
"This Duncan doesn't visit you?"  
For a moment she saw a shadow running across his face, the accentuated casual posture, which looked as if he was melting in the chair, she said.  
"Sensitive topic?"  
For a moment she had the feeling that he would not answer her. But finally he turned his full attention to her.  
"You may not understand, but Mac is important to me, almost as important as you are to the guard."  
The expression of his eyes in the otherwise friendly looking face, showed her that he was very serious. Anyone who took on Duncan McLeod and won would be up against something very dark. She was warned.

She swallowed the bite in her mouth, rinsed with coffee and nodded understandingly.  
"Okay", she replied stretched out. "I won't hurt him and Booker seems to like him too. We won't break him, if that's what you're worried about."  
He looked at her seriously over the edge of the coffee cup and nodded as he put it down.  
"But there's more, am I right?" she asked him casually. "I know you, Methos, I know when something is bothering you, but it's not just this Highlander."  
For a long moment he stared at her meaningfully, without replying anything to the question. Then he lifted his head and leaned back in his chair with an emphatic calm.  
"Why are you letting me and Nicky go at each other with swords?"  
She froze in mid-movement, patterned him expressionlessly and then shook herself with laughter.  
"Oh, Methos, you're not going at each other. It's a ridiculous practice fight."  
He remained absolutely serious and didn't move a muscle.  
"Is that it?"  
Her laughter died away instantly when she saw that the play had come to an abrupt end. There he was again, old Methos, the one she had faced in Scythia with the Labrys in her hand, in battle. Suspicious, calculating and dangerous.  
She put the cup back on the table and straightened up in her chair.  
"Nicky has absolutely no reservations about you. Why should he? He saw you yesterday for the first time in his life."  
Methos tilted his head while examining. A smile curled on his lips that showed no trace of kindness.  
"On the one hand, I don't know to what extent my old reputation precedes me on your team, but on the other hand, he has been sharing a bed with Yusuf since when exactly? Seven hundred and fifty or eight hundred years?"  
Andy knowingly raised an eyebrow and snorted mockingly before laughing loudly and cheerlessly.  
"You think he's jealous? This is absolutely ridiculous, Methos. By the time you and Joe had that little adventure in Al-Andalus, I had to worry that they would tear each other's heads off. Only ninety years earlier, they had killed each other hundreds of times in all sorts of ways and were anything but devoted to each other. Besides, he doesn't know a thing about you if Joe hasn't told him."

He read in her eyes that she was telling the truth, nodded and expelled the held air audibly.  
Andy didn't seem to resent his presumption, but looked at him with relish and shrugged.  
"Seriously now, Methos. You don't really have any reservations about that, do you? What could possibly happen except that you hurt each other a little? You're both immortal."  
He remained silent, unfathomable and without any visible emotion, stood up and cleared the dishes from the table.  
"I am not quite as immortal as he and I am not MacLeod. You know I never spent much time training. My tactics were always different."  
Andy got up, took a few steps towards him. She took his hands in hers, stroking gently over his long fingers.  
"Nicky is a nice guy. You are guaranteed to have more than four thousand years of experience on him. Believe me, your concerns are completely unfounded."  
He was not convinced, but nodded reassuringly and breathed a little kiss on her hands.  
"If you say so, then it must be true."  
Andromache laughed cheerfully, freed himself from his grip and gave him a pat on the bottom.  
"Yes, that's right, old man. But let me raise another subject. What's on your planner for the next millennium?"  
He frowned.  
"What exactly do you mean?"  
"Well, I must admit you're the best strategist I know. So, what will we have to look out for in the next millennium?"  
Although the question seemed casual, she was serious. He nodded slightly and seemed to think about what he considered important for the Old Guard's interests.  
"You can answer that for yourself. Everything technical is developing rapidly. It will become even faster, because research and exchange is taking place worldwide. Weapons technology, but above all surveillance, will become an issue for us all. It will become increasingly difficult to conceal the fact that we are immortal. The world is getting smaller and smaller. Databases will become faster, more powerful and larger. Computer programs and the Internet will define the next century. Make sure you keep up with technological development, many immortals will fail to do so, just adapting will not be enough. If you find a professional from the high-tech industry who fits into your team, then pick them up.“

She didn't ask him what it was like with him, she enjoyed it when they met more or less by chance. If they had more to do with each other again, they would only fight like cats and dogs. She only needed to look around the flat. When they were together, even sex became an amusing fight. She nodded her thanks to him.  
"Come on then, let's go and see Duncan McLeod of the McLeod clan now. Is he so attracted to the Eastern faith, or is it just a coincidence that he calls his gym Dojo?"  
"Hm", Methos said, clearly amused again, "it's really more of a martial arts school. Just let yourself be surprised. Even I'm a little curious about your sparring with Mac."


	7. Practise lesson

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The long awaited practice lesson from Andy and Duncan.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As English is not our mother tongue, dear Iliaeth offered to help us with the translation and to read the English version of our chapters beta again. We are very happy that you are on board

As there were no classes in the dojo on Sunday, Duncan at least didn’t have to cancel any. He also preferred to leave no chance of anyone coming in during practice fights among immortals. Duncan feared that it would be unavoidable that someone might get injured. He would also discuss with his strange guests to close off the practice room. Hopefully their obvious paranoia would allow that.  
Joseph was, of course, as Duncan had expected, overly punctual. He had just opened the door of the dojo and looked around examining it. A brief smile ran across the watcher's face as he saw Duncan sweeping the floor with his broom. The wooden floor of the dojo looked incredibly clean even so. Joseph, who of course knew for certain that no cleaning lady was responsible for this, approached Duncan directly in his characteristic gait. 

He put the broom away and thought about what he could say to his old friend without endangering him. Actually, he didn't know himself what this was going to be today. The Highlander assumed that these people were honest enough for him to be able to rely on their word. Methos had made it clear that he appreciated the group. Whether this went so far that the old man trusted them, he did not believe. He knew Methos well enough to see that he was already very careful in his dealings with them. At least they weren't headhunters, at least beheading gave them no advantage. Anyway, the practice fight with this Andy would certainly be interesting. She was not as strong as him, but certainly faster.

"Hello, Mac, glad I caught you alone."  
Mac returned the greeting and wondered if he should ask Joe if he had found anything about the group in the Watchers' files.  
As he was about to do so, Joe interrupted him.  
"I have been investigating all night, even going through the unidentified sightings. None of them turn up anywhere. One of them may have slipped through our fingers, but four? Mac, what's wrong with this?"  
"I think Methos can probably explain that one. They are dangerous, no doubt. And at least as paranoid as he is."  
"I've seen this Andy before, I could have sworn there was a picture in the files...", Dawson broke off, "Idiot! Fucking old bastard. Are you telling me that Adam's got something to do with this, that we don't have anything on them and..."  
"I'm not saying anything," Duncan said, looking at the door. "Visitors are coming, we'll leave it for afterwards to give our 'good old friend' a rap on the knuckles."  
Quietly, just for himself, he added, "If we can get through this properly."  
From the fact that Joe checked the seat of his revolver, he realised that his Watcher had very good ears.

At twelve o'clock sharp, Nicky, Yusuf and Booker entered the dojo and immediately looked around with interest.  
Methos and Andy arrived, as was to be expected, half an hour late. When Joe looked intensively at Methos and said, "You're late, Adam," he just smiled gently and replied apologetically, "I insisted we come dressed. Unfortunately it took a little while to do that".  
Andy nodded to her people briefly and then immediately turned her attention to the Highlander.  
Duncan could not help but return the appraising smile. Andy winked at him playfully.  
"Shall we go now?"  
As MacLeod took the katana, she glanced at the labrys she held loosely in her hand, nodded approvingly and walked into the middle of the practice room with her.  
There he positioned himself in the starting position. Andy watched him with interest.  
Nicky, Yusuf, Booker, Methos and Dawson formed a wide circle around her. The Watcher uncomfortably checked the seat of his revolver and nervously gnawed at his lower lip.  
Even Methos was not completely unimpressed by the tense atmosphere. Unlike the bar owner, however, in his case it was more a kind of interested curiosity than a worried observation. He touched Dawson's elbow briefly to calm him down. Joe looked at him with raised eyebrows. "I hope you realise that this time you're not getting away from me without an explanation, old man."  
"We shall see." Methos had already turned his attention to the two combatants.

Andy had the double axe rotated around her hand.  
"Head hanging in the sky?" She smiled maliciously. "A Japanese sword, wielded according to a Chinese technique. Good, then according to the rules of Taijiquan Dao."  
Even before Duncan could respond, she suddenly and with incredible speed went on the attack.  
She led a wide strike at the height of his upper body, which he immediately parried with presence of mind. He gasped in horror, not expecting either the speed or the force of the impact, but forced her to take a step back with a twist of the katana.  
Andy used the energy of the kickback to make a turn and used the momentum for another punch aimed at Duncan's right shoulder.  
He tore up the blade, blocked it too and steered it sideways past his upper arm.  
Andromache laughed out loud and nodded approvingly.  
"That's not bad, Highlander."  
Duncan did not react. She just continued to pattern her with an attentive, cool look, careful not to miss any of her graceful, dangerous movements.  
Her name was quite right, he realised. Someone who was not well prepared for an exchange of blows with her probably did not stand a chance against her in the fight. Even if you knew what you were getting into, she was obviously hard to beat.  
No wonder she was able to stand up to Methos almost effortlessly, both then and now. Duncan clearly noticed, however, that she was in complete control of her movements and emotions. This was really just a practice session for her, a little morning gimmick. Nothing that she really took seriously. Duncan welcomed this immensely. On this basis he could even enjoy this fight.  
Andromache took a step back and lowered the labrys a little. A sure sign that she was pulling back a bit to get him to attack.  
Duncan did her the favour and pushed past her with a turn around her own axis. Meanwhile, he pulled his katana forward at waist level and aimed his blow at her left flank.  
She struck back with force, but as the turn was complete, he dropped his weapon on her again. He would have hit her at right collarbone level if she hadn't led the labrys behind her back, raised it and caught the katana between the axe blades.  
Duncan noticed how either Joe or Nicky, alarmed, sharply sucked in the air. He couldn't tell which of the two it might be. The men were right next to each other. It is quite possible that both Dawson and Nicky had made that sound.  
After the rotation was complete, Andy and Duncan stood facing each other with raised weapons, looked at each other with a smile for a moment and almost simultaneously went into a frontal attack that left both him and her sweating.  
The exchange of blows ended with each blocking the other's weapon and no one being able to get out of the situation without giving up their cover.

"That's enough!"  
Dawson took a few steps forward.  
"It's hard to believe that you didn't kill each other," he snorted angrily.  
It was clear to him that he was really starting to worry.  
Booker laughed out loud and shook his head amused.  
"If Andy says it's a practice fight, then it doesn't go beyond a practice. No worries."  
The watcher looked at him in disbelief and raised an eyebrow.  
"But it didn't look like that at the time."  
Andy laughed as well, offered Duncan a thankful bow and turned to the bar owner. Comfortingly, she patted him on the shoulder in a gesture without distance.  
"It's all right, Dawson. It was really just a bit of fun."  
Joe hummed something into his beard that sounded like an evil curse. He was careful, however, to make sure that none of those present could understand his words. Only Methos grazed him with a thoughtful look. After the performance that these Andy and Duncan had just given here, Joe felt little desire to make an enemy of Andromache and her troupe. Presumably, the lady attached great importance to the fact that her people were fit.  
From Joe's point of view, after this experience, there was no longer any doubt that this troupe actually earned their living as mercenaries.  
He swallowed dryly as Andy lightly and almost familiarly patted him on the shoulder and could not imagine what would happen to her opponents if she got involved in a real, serious fight. Most people were reluctant to touch him because of his disability, probably afraid he might lose his balance. This Andy, like Methos, did not seem to know such fears. He looked at the axe in Andy's hands, and her handling of the weapon was by far the scariest thing he had seen in a long time.  
"And now what?", he asked expectantly. "Shall we go to the kitchen and have coffee together after this exchange of blows... this drama?"  
Andy grinned smugly as she checked the blades of her labrys for blemishes after the fight and was about to put them back in their pockets. Duncan, who also routinely examined his sword and cleaned it with an oil-soaked rag, gave her a questioning look and threw the cloth at her.  
Booker looked at the watcher with interest and could hardly contain a hint of a smile.  
"You'd like a coffee now, Mr. Dawson," he shook his head rebuking and focused his attention on Nicky. "But the real fun is only just beginning. You don't want to miss our main attraction, do you? A classic old-school fight with two broadswords?

Yusuf stood between Nicky and Methos like a cat that had eaten its owner's canary, looking indecisively from one to the other.  
When Nicky gave him a warm smile and stepped forward, he nodded to him with a warning and worried look.  
Methos also made preparations to join the circle of fighters but was held back by Dawson on the sleeve of his jumper.  
"What are you doing, Adam?"  
Without answering the question, the man put his hand on Joe's shoulder and drew his sword with the other while shaking his head apologetically. The watcher stared at him in horror.  
"You can't be serious. Damn, Methos, what has gotten into you?"  
"Look, Joe, this is complicated..."  
He shook his head in a suggestive way, simply left it standing, stepped into the circle and made no attempt whatsoever to take up even a remote basic position. He had laid his sword casually on his shoulder and somehow seemed out of place.  
Joe remained standing stunned in place. Duncan stepped to his side and took a deep breath. Methos in a sparring match ... he would never have thought it possible that he would enjoy this sight until that point in his life. Sure, he had seen the old man fight, had faced him himself several times, but the fact that the ROG voluntarily and without much need for a fair fight seemed almost surreal. 

Andromache had made it unmistakably clear in advance that this exercise would indeed be fair. The only ones who carried firearms were those who would not take part in the fight. Methos and Nicky had put down not only these, but also all other weapons except the swords. Duncan was stunned when he realised that not only the Italian but also his friend was armed, almost to the teeth. The three knives did not shock him, but that the throwing star was in his coat pocket had been absolutely new even to him.


	8. Dramatic events

One last time, the ancient tested his luck and tried to convince Nicolo to abandon this farce for which he seemed to be waiting more than eagerly.  
"You really want to do this, kid?"  
When addressed, a slight frown could be seen on Nicolo's forehead.  
"I won't withdraw my challenge, if that's what you mean, old man", the sneering, lighthearted man replied.  
Methos shook his head in disbelief, lowered his weapon to the ground in resignation, raised the Ivanhoe's blade again as he gave Yusuf a questioning look. He grinned apologetically at him and then shook his head with a serious expression. Not my decision, he seemed to want to tell him. Even he had not been able to convince Nicky last night to give up this fight.  
"You know we don't have to do this", Adam continued unperturbed. "There's no reason for this and you have no idea where this can end."  
Nicky shrugged off indifferently.  
"We'll see, won't we? I asked, you agreed."  
Methos grinded with his jaws, but finally nodded after registering a distinctly exhortative head movement from Andromache.

For a brief moment Nicky and Methos faced each other silently, then the younger decided to attack Methos' right flank.  
This blocked the blow from the lower left. Nicky pulled back his blade and led the next blow from far up on Methos' shoulder. The old man took advantage of the opportunity and deflected the blow to the side, but led his own weapon around his opponent's broadsword in such a way that he could not detach it from his opponent's without releasing the hilt. If Nicky did not want to be disarmed, he was forced to follow the movement that Methos now forced him into.  
He steered the younger immortal past him on the right side and made him bend his knee deeply to avoid losing his sword  
From this position Nicky took the opportunity to roll over and get back on his feet a good distance away from Methos.

Impressed, Nicky raised both eyebrows. That could have gone really wrong. Though he knew from Joe that Methos was extremely reluctant to fight, he didn't seem to be in bad shape or in the slightest bit rusty. Nicky had not expected this trap. He almost let Andy's old flame disarm him and he could see that she was impressed by her amused look at Methos.  
He crooked his head briefly when Methos made no attempt to pursue him or lead an attack himself, so he gathered himself together and tried again, this time using a more unconventional method.   
With force, he led the sword frontally in a sweeping blow from bottom to top. Methos also blocked this one almost effortlessly high above his head, fought back the attack and in turn led the blade from the bottom right against Nicky's flank, which was now uncovered in front of him. The latter, in turn, also parried, led both swords upwards in one fluid movement, turned on his own axis and from this movement applied a blow to Methos' mid body, which he could not intercept in time.  
Yusuf took a hissing breath, Booker whispered something that sounded a lot like "Merde" and MacLeod dared to step forward but was held back by head-shaking Andy who put her hand on his chest to calm him down.

Disbelievingly, Methos took a deep breath, staring at the blood that was wetting the light-coloured jumper. Nicolo had made a long wound across his chest. Not very deep, a scratch only, at the deepest point only centimetres deep, which immediately began to heal, but still undeniably present.  
Methos' lips opened indignantly to a curse in a language that even Andromache did not understand. But it sounded very creative and very bad-tempered, Dawson noted, who captured the spoken language in his head.  
"What the hell... You wounded me!"  
Nicky looked on in wonderment at how quickly and yet differently the injury healed. Small discharges of energy flashed across the cut in a short flare, while it disappeared without a trace, just as Nicky's own injuries healed without consequences. All that remained was a wide crack and bloody stains in Methos worn-out jumper.  
"Excuse me," he politely objected, "but you weren't fast enough and completely without cover. Only a fool wouldn't take this opportunity."  
Methos shook his head reluctantly, clenched his teeth together and turned the anger arising within him into a vigorous counterattack.  
He led the Ivanhoe with a wide strike from top to bottom against Nicolo's right shoulder. His movements became generally wider and more open. During the following series of punches, all of which were aimed at Nicky's upper body, he temporarily gave up any cover, as everyone present quickly realised.

MacLeod frowned reluctantly. The old man was not comfortable with Andy forcing him to leave his comfort zone, but what was happening here was slowly but surely becoming dangerous. He had always suspected that Methos was holding back a lot and never showed everything. His fighting technique had probably been really rusty when they met. But what was offered here now was far from "I'm just a guy!”  
The blow of the Italian who had hit Methos below the chest was well aimed and absolutely precisely calculated. Nicky knew exactly what he was doing here, had aimed for the injury, as if it was a matter of course. Was this the usual way of doing the "little practice fights" they had talked about yesterday?   
Duncan looked around stealthily, could see no suspicion or concern in Yusuf and Booker's eyes. They followed the fight with interest and almost composure, seeming to find this hard pace entirely appropriate.  
Increasingly, Methos concentrated on offensive tactics, giving up much of his defensive work in their favour. A circumstance that neither the bystanders nor Andy were unaware of. She followed the exchange of blows with concentrated attention and a strange, almost feverish glow in her eyes and smiled in agreement.  
That was the moment when Duncan realised what was happening.  
Adam let himself in on the game, receding more and more into the background, leaving the ancient, the other, Methos, in control.  
He exchanged a worried look with Dawson, who nervously and deeply worriedly followed what everyone present, except Joe and Duncan, seemed to think was sparring.

Nicky blocked the stroke sequence efficiently and routinely, and even when Adam switched to unconventional old movement sequences, he withstood the increased demands throughout. Although he breathed more heavily after this series of attacks, his movements did not slow down, but he too followed a similar tactic to Methos and did not let him force himself into a purely defensive position. Because they both put more emphasis on speed than on strength, this was something where one could more than well reflect oneself and one's technique.  
After parrying the last stroke past his right flank, he went out of his spin and into a counter-attack that almost cut Methos' thigh deeply, but the older one took a step back at the last moment, so that Nicky's sword just passed dangerously close to him. Still from the same movement his opponent led the blade around him and aimed at Methos upper arm.  
His strike came to nothing when Methos crouched down with a lunge deep under the blade and led the Ivanhoe up.  
Nicky made a frightened, choked sound and froze. The sword in his hand fell to the ground clinking.

Yusuf fell a few steps forward with a loud scream, but was held back by Andromache's outstretched arm and grabbed by Booker on his shoulders. His rage erupted in another scream.  
"You fucking..."

"What?", Methos interrupted him gruffly, but immediately turned back to Nicky.  
Joe took a deep, desperate breath, but surrendered to the firm grip of his friends.  
"Don‘t Joe," Booker warned him. "Not yet."

Nicky fell to his knees with a painful gasp. Methos followed this movement with his sword, leaning over to the younger one and calming him with a free hand on his right shoulder, trying not to move the Ivanhoe.  
"Silly kid", he murmured pitifully "There are reasons why I didn't want this fight." Nicky stared at him in disbelief with eyes that seemed to grow a touch darker with pain. A hoarse gasp escaped him.  
"Rimuvere", he whispered haltingly.  
Adam nodded and pressed the younger man's shoulder comfortingly before placing his hand next to the blade on Nicky's left flank.  
"As soon as I do, shortness of breath and bleeding sets in. You're gonna die, Nicky, but you know that, don't you?" 

Andy and Booker released Yusuf.  
"Go to him, Joe. He needs you now," Andromache instructed him and for a moment it was actually unclear whether she meant Nicky or Methos. But probably his help had to be for both.  
He rushed to him, supported Nicolo's back from behind, put his right hand on the other side of the blade below his left rib cage. He felt his lover's hand cramping in pain as he reached into his shirt.  
"Rimuvere", Nicky whispered again and nodded weakly.  
Yusuf looked up at Methos. Their eyes met almost as if it had been arranged. Both took a deep breath before Adam pulled the blade back from Nicky's flank with a quick jerk.

There was not much bleeding. At least not at first sight. Methos exchanged a quick glance with Yusuf, they both knew that the internal injuries were of a magnitude that even Nicolos' immortal body did not have much to offer.   
Seemingly callously, Methos gazed at Nicky with a petrified face, who had sunk back and was being held by Yusuf.   
Nicolo's face was emaciated with pain and he moaned slightly. Each of his breaths seemed to cause him severe pain, accompanied by a faint cough that left a bloody foam on his lips. 

Methos closed his eyes in agony. Pneumothorax, analysed by the physician inside him. Blood in the chest, perhaps an extensive rupture of the spleen, certainly involving larger blood vessels.   
Nicky's body began to heal. What was otherwise a uniquely useful mechanism would only prolong the suffering in the face of these wounds. Nicky was facing a cruel death, he realised with growing despair.  
Yusuf took care of his dying partner, kissed him gently on the temple and tried to position him carefully on his thighs to avoid causing additional pain. Nicky moaned with agony as he changed position. Yusuf was clear that his Nicolo was not about to die a beautiful death. And especially not a quick one. But he would not die alone.  
Methos glanced at his bloodied Ivanhoe, spun around on his heel and hurled his sword away from him, across the hall. The dark, almost animal-like scream he emitted prevented anyone from getting too close to him at that moment. When finally some movement came into the audience, Methos had already reached the end of the dojo and was standing at the window with his back to the action, breathing heavily.

Andy had placed herself between Methos and her people in a flash.  
Duncan immediately noticed the tension that should not exist in immortals, even with a fatal wound. One died, one woke up, so where was the problem here now.  
None of the immortals he knew had ever made a big thing out of dying. It was unpleasant, it hurt, but it passed.  
So why now this tension that was literally felt in the room? He exchanged a look with Dawson, who had probably also noticed that something was unusual here.  
It wasn’t just Yusuf who seemed tense, but also Booker, even Andy.  
Duncan puffed through and, with his hands slightly raised, went to the leader to find out what they had been missing from the whole thing.  
"Is there anything I can do to help?"  
According to Duncan, more than one person here needed help. He glanced at Methos, who for the first time since he had known him seemed vulnerable and unwilling or unable to look in her direction.  
After Andy didn't answer immediately, the Highlander already wanted to go after Methos.  
The injury to Nicolo, which he could now make out, was definitely fatal and painful. He wondered why no one was ending it. Was there a code of honour among them that said that you had to die on your own?  
Andy stopped him with a wave of his hand. "No, let the bartender go. First, he already has his hand on his gun to protect Methos, and second, Methos won't bite a mortal as hard verbally as he would bite you. We must wait."  
Duncan gave Joe a wink at Adam and he immediately set off on his rocking walk.  
"Why wait? What is the point now? Please try to explain it to me."  
Andy paid their full attention to MacLeod, suddenly nodding thoughtfully.  
"You are very straightforward and probably the best thing that could have happened to Methos. We haven't told you everything about our kind. We cannot die, but one day the wounds will not heal and death will be final. Immortality ends suddenly and none of us knows when that happens or why. It would be fatal if today was the time for Nicolo. You understand?"  
Duncan closed his eyes briefly, then nodded. There were, damn it, big differences between them. As it looked, all that was left was to wait for the death of the Italian and hope for his speedy resurrection.  
Yusuf stroked his partner tenderly over his face and Nicolo, for his part, tried to calm his partner with faltering, faintly whispered words.  
"Yusuf, tiamo, tutto bene, don't worry."  
The pressed, fragile voice betrayed only too well the pain the injured person had to endure. In spite of everything, he struggled to find a mild smile for Yusuf before the coughing stimulus overcame him and wetted his lips with blood again.  
The Maghrebi smiled sadly and pressed his lips onto Nicolo's dark hair: "Sei la mia anima. 

Joe Dawson had meanwhile reached Methos. But he did not react to his presence.  
"Adam, I..." The observer stopped immediately when the old man drove around to him and said without any humour in his voice: "Adam has just been sent on holiday and Methos is beginning to believe very strongly that New Zealand would be very beautiful at this time of year".  
Although it sounded almost like one of his jokes, Joe could tell by the cold, hard look that Methos was finished, his hands trembled and nothing was meant to be humorous at the moment. Whatever had just happened, Methos deeply regretted it. Joe recognized in those eyes what he had seen in the eyes of hundreds of soldiers. Methos‘ were covered in it. He would have hugged any of his other friends, but Joe knew the old man would not let that happen now. So he was content to stop and support himself with his walking stick before carefully placing his left hand on Methos' forearm. This way he could at least show him that he was there for him.


	9. Escalation

A choked moaning could be heard from Nicolo.  
Methos looked at Joe Dawson's shoes with deadly seriousness, as if they were the most interesting thing in the world, and began to speak softly, in a sluggish voice.  
"When I removed the sword, outside air entered the chest. The injury caused the negative pressure to escape, allowing the lungs to work. The vacuum is history, the left lung collapsed. He only has half of his lung capacity left. The shortness of breath will quickly get worse and the pain he is experiencing now increases with every breath he takes. The resulting cavity fills up with the blood of the injured spleen and compresses the remaining lung. Either he dies of shock or suffocates from his own blood. Is he still coughing bloody foam?"  
Joe glanced briefly over at Nicolo and just nodded. Stunned, he listened to Methos, who continued to teach without emotion.  
"The cut is big, it went through clean. Nicky's body tries to close the wounds as quickly as possible. But with the size of the cut, there is no chance. Nicky's death is delayed for quite some time by the physical compulsion to heal. If he were mortal, he would probably have made it already."  
Methos raised his gaze, opened his hand demanding.  
"It could be several hours before he dies. Look at him, Joe. He can hardly breathe now."  
Joe shook his head in bewilderment and horror.  
"You can't do this."  
Now the old man showed a really amused smile.  
"Joe, if Nicky doesn't wake up, I'm the one that Yusuf is going to chase to the ends of the earth anyway. Nothing I do can make that any worse. Give me that thing."  
Joe closed his eyes briefly, gritting his teeth tightly, he had heard Andy's explanation to Duncan earlier and saw the extent of the problems clearly.  
"I can do this too, Adam."  
Methos nodded, but extended a hand to Dawson, demanding.  
"I know, Joe, and I love you for it, but it's my job."  
As soon as Methos had the revolver in his hand, he unlocked it and put it in his back waistband.  
Without further emotion, he strolled towards those crouching on the ground.  
He scrutinised Nicolo closely, apparently seeing what he wanted to see, drew his revolver in a graceful movement and, before anyone could react, circled a hole in the middle of the Italian's forehead.

For an anxious moment the world seemed to stand still.   
Andromache rushed towards him with a loud scream. Even before she reached him, Booker had already disarmed Methos and painfully twisted his right arm on his back as he dragged him back.  
He made no attempt to resist. Not even when Sebastien also twisted his second arm on his back and kicked him to his knees.  
Andy was only a second too slow to catch up with him before Joe was with him.  
She was given a resigned "fuck" when it became clear that Yusuf had been faster than her.  
His saber was already at Adam's throat.  
"You fucking asshole, Methos!" he yelled angrily. His hand trembled with rage, the blade carving into Adam's sensitive skin, a drop of blood already running down his throat.  
"What should I have done?" Adam asked back. "How long were you going to watch him die, damn it?  
The blade now cut deeper into his skin. Not too deep, yet painful and seriously threatening.  
"Joe," Andy cautiously warned and stepped one step closer to her team member.  
"No, Boss!", he barked back at her, just turned to her.  
"You executed him, Methos! He just scratched you and you killed him in such a shitty way that after more than nine hundred years he asked me to finally kill him."  
Methos closed his eyes in gloom, started to answer, but in the end he didn't say a word. Yusuf was right. There was nothing he could say in response to his accusation. To say now that he had done what needed to be done was probably counterproductive.  
"Joe," whispered Andy behind the Maghrebi, "put the sabre down."  
"No!"  
"Yusuf, you knew this could happen."  
He turned to her now, his eyes still filled with rage as he answered her.  
"But not like that!"  
"And that's why you want to kill him now, damn it? Fuck you, Joe. Look at him. He didn't mean for it to go this way. These are things that happen."

Meanwhile, Joe Dawson had gone to see Nicolo, who was still lying motionless on the floor. Duncan also looked down at the Italian.  
"Hold me," Joe whispered, grabbed Duncan's hand and just let himself fall backwards. "I'll watch out until he wakes up. Think of something. Just hold this."  
Sitting on the floor, Joe immediately felt if Nicolo's heart beating. There was nothing there. Some water seeped through the hole in his forehead. Joe tried to make out something that suggested immortal healing, but nothing was there. He didn't know exactly how it worked for them either.  
Duncan stepped next to Andy, he thought she was a potential ally in this story. He convulsively thought about what he could do or say that would have an effect in the situation.  
"Yusuf, I had the impression yesterday that honour is something you know about. What is the honour in killing an unarmed man who is also on his knees and who hasn't even made any effort to defend himself?"  
"Joe," Andy asked, "listen to me, I wanted this fight, Nicky wanted it. Methos didn't want it, and he was fucking right."  
Yusuf breathed heavily, but still left his sword resting on Methos throat.  
"Damn it," Andy continued, "even if it was a few years ago, you loved each other once. Yusuf, you can't do this, stop!"  
Apart from Joe's heavy breathing, there was hardly a sound to be heard. Annoyed, he looked at his boss.  
Dawson's sonorous voice broke this silence.  
"Can one of you immortal idiots get your ass over here and at least help us up?"  
Joe held Nicolo halfway up, slapping him on the back to help him cough up the partially clotted blood.   
Now you could watch as the bullet was first squeezed out of his forehead and the frontal bone closed up again. The sword wound seemed to need more time, but even then there was clearly a lot going on.  
Under continued coughing Nicolo brought out the words "Yusuf, no, no!"  
The person addressed closed his eyes in relief and expelled the held air as he heard Nicolo's voice. The sabre fell to the ground clinking and Methos took a deep breath, although Booker still held him unyieldingly on his knees as Joe rushed to Nicky.

Dawson patted himself on the back mentally, at least he had been able to take some pressure off with his saying. He could tell from Duncan's attitude that the Highlander had now positioned himself with Andy between the two groups.   
At least these two seemed to have had enough of it.  
Andy had given Booker a flaming look to remind him who was in charge of the team. He still forced Methos to stay on his knees, but at least loosened his grip and nodded reassuringly at Andy.  
Just the fact that Nicky was alive again seemed to relieve much of the tension.

Yusuf had been with them in one fell swoop and had literally torn his lover from the arms of the watcher.   
Joe tried to take up a completely different position and slip away a bit. How could he have been so naive as to want to play nurse, of all people. With his prostheses he was now as helpless as a turtle turned on its back. The fact that the Maghrebi now kissed, stroked and pressed against his reawakened partner did not make the situation any better for Dawson. He was practically in the middle of it and felt more than out of place.  
If things went well here, Methos would pay for it, he swore to himself that second.  
On the other hand, he had never seen resuscitation from such close quarters, and he had also noticed some differences to the immortals he knew.  
Dawson would have liked to do without Yusuf's Moroccan vows of love, though.  
"You are the light of my eyes, Nicolo, my heart. I thought I'd lost you forever and that cruel way..."  
Nicky put the fingers of his right hand on his lips, interrupting Yusuf's speech.  
"It's OK, Joe. Sono qui, but it's over now, you hear?"  
The Italian moaned again, while he completely regenerated within a short time. He pushed himself away from his lover with one hand, taking up some space for himself.  
"I'm gonna get that son of a bitch."  
"Yusuf, no!"  
The Italian had taken his partner's hands and pressed them to his heart.  
"I forced him to do it. Against your advice and his own, I insisted on this fight."  
Yusuf looked at his lover with such astonishment that he began to smile, loosened his hands and, in an imperious gesture, pulled his partner's head towards him and sealed his lips, which were about to reciprocate, with a passionate kiss.  
Joe sat next to him, almost leaning against Nicky and rolling his eyes, then blinked at Andromache and Duncan happily. 

"I hate to bother you, but what do you think about someone helping me up. In case it's noticed I'm wearing two prostheses, if no one shows any mercy I'll grow here. I've really had enough adventures for the rest of this year!"  
Duncan rushed to him to meet his demand while Joe helped his partner to his feet.  
As Nicky stepped in front of Methos, Booker released him on his signal and the Italian reached out to Adam to pull him back on his feet.  
"Adam, I owe you an apology and thanks, I guess."  
Methos stared at him with an indistinct look and a stony expression.  
"I shouldn't have pressured you to enter into this fight. I'm sorry that my stubbornness seems to have taken over again after such a long time."  
Adam nodded in agreement but said nothing because Nicky continued with his remarks.  
"Thanks for ending it. That was really..." he closed his eyes briefly in horrible remembrance "...it was just terrible.  
Methos took a deep, sighing breath before nodding back.  
"Listen, Nicky. I didn't want this. I said from the beginning this was a stupid fucking idea. I know why I hate to fight. It turned out that I was right again, but I just had to finish it. Not only because Yusuf can't kill you after all this time, but because I was simply too amazed and stunned to finish it quickly, cleanly and with a single blow. I hope you will wear this...", he raised his hands in a helpless gesture and faltered briefly, "... well, not this one. It will join the long list of my thousand regrets and hopefully not be repeated.  
Nicolo nodded with a narrow smile.

"Okay, then I'd say, for today I'm closing my dojo for any more practice fights."  
Disgruntled, Duncan glided his gaze across the spot where Nicky's blood was slowly running into the parquet floor. He should clean there as soon as possible or at least pour a bucket of sand on the spot.  
He nodded at Andy and Booker.  
"Could you help me a moment, please?"  
Andy looked at him with raised eyebrows, but nodded and also gave Booker a sign. They followed Duncan to his office, grinning at each other as they looked at the occupied records that took up the entire desk, and also noticed the lined-up cases of beer and the whisky bottles and glasses.  
Andy frowned questioningly and raised a hand at a loss. That was completely crazy. This buffet seemed downright grotesque to them in view of what had happened in the last hour.  
"What the..." took her away stunned, but she was quickly interrupted by Duncan.  
"Can you set this up in the dojo? I thought this sparring would be exhausting and we could all use a break afterwards. Besides, eating together promotes peace."  
Booker inspected the two beer crates and a paint smeared plate leaning against the wall behind the door. Apparently, this had recently been used to do artistic work with colour in the broadest sense.  
"And what are you doing at this time?" Andy asked the Highlander with interest  
"I'm going back to my flat, get a pair of jeans and two jumpers so they can go out and socialise again."  
When the Highlander left the office, they could still hear him mumbling.  
"Since I met the old man, my need for jumpers has multiplied."


	10. the old song

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes, it's over.  
> With one laughing eye and one crying eye, we close our little trip to Seacouver with this chapter.  
> Writing this story has been a lot of fun for both of us and has sweetened our evenings for over 6 weeks.  
> Not only through the typing alone, but also through all the correspondence via Whatsapp, the many rumblings and speculations and many small details, this story has become something that we can justifiably call our baby.  
> We hope that you have enjoyed it as much as we have and we are very happy about the really, really unexpected, unbelievably many views of this story.  
> Of course we would be very happy about a little feedback from you, but as it is always the case, we can't take that for granted.  
> So we hope you enjoy the conclusion of our baby.  
> Kind regards  
> SquirrelFeathers and Rena

Booker made an improvised table out of the wooden board and the two trestles under Dawson's suggestions for improvement. Joe and Nicky, meanwhile, were already tasting the first delicacies that Duncan had organised when he left the dojo briefly. Apparently to receive a delivery.  
Shaking his head, Methos took back his bloody Ivanhoe. He stepped purposefully towards Andy, who was taking a bottle of beer from one of the crates, put his hand on her arm and, with a serious look, pulled her a few steps aside.  
For a brief moment they eyed each other appraisingly, scrutinisingly, almost hostilely, before Methos forced himself to make his point in Andromache's native tongue. The Scythian words did not pass easily from his lips. Andy was the only one besides himself and perhaps Quynh who still knew the language, but he hadn't really used it for centuries. However, Scythian, like so many others, was one of the languages he used for his diaries. As long as Andromache existed, he wouldn't want to forget it either, even if the woman drove him mad.  
"This," he raised the bloody sword so she could not ignore it, "will not happen again, do you understand? Never again will I lift a weapon against one of your boys unless he seriously wants my head."  
She didn't answer, but then nodded in agreement and cast a serious look at the bloody blade before she eyed Methos again, expressionless. She muttered something in Scythian that was obviously not meant for his ears and made a move to turn away.  
He grabbed her arm, held her tightly and made her turn to face him again.  
Why did these simple little words infuriate him so? Was it because he was now hearing them from Andy's mouth? For millennia he hadn't given a damn if someone called him a coward.  
"Excuse me? What was that?" he growled angrily. "If I didn't care so much about keeping Duncan and his dojo out of this unscathed, the old version of my alter ego would be slapping you in the face for it right now, here and in front of your boys."  
"The great Methos takes on the whole team? Are you really serious, Adam?" his current name she spewed out at him outright. "That would be something I'd really like to see, provided it was actually Methos and not that smart Adam Pierson."  
Her earnest mockery was hard to miss. Methos' eyes twinkled maliciously as well. That fucking bitch knew too damn well how to hit him with words. Maybe Christmas in Tahiti really would have been a good idea.  
"So what?" she snapped, "Am I not right? If you hadn't held back so much in spite of everything, it wouldn't have come to this."  
"If I hadn't held back so much," he returned, upset, "this would have been anything but a practice fight."  
"True, you could have disarmed Nicky after two blows and killed him with another if you'd wanted to. You didn't. You held back, after all, you'd rather be nice Adam Pierson."  
He stared at her and knew nothing to say in response. He noticed that those present eyed her gloomily. They seemed to be trying hard to hide their obvious concern at the tense, aggressive words. None of the others present understood Scythian. Methos twisted his face into a thin smile.  
He took a deep breath and closed his eyes briefly to keep a cool head.  
Very deliberately, he took the tension out of his body, appearing smaller and more harmless.  
Then he nodded and tried to explain.  
"You're right," it escaped him resignedly. "I'm no longer the man I was in 332 BC and that's just as well.  
He has no place in this day and age, Andy. I want it that way. But you're right. Adam went into battle and he left it way too late for this guy from back then to be effective enough."  
"In the end, you weren't either of them," she offered significantly more mildly now. She seemed almost sympathetic as she elaborated. "And that was ultimately the problem. That's the reason it got out of hand." Her fingers stroked his cheek gently and comfortingly before she placed both hands around his, still holding the hilt of the sword.  
"Give it to me," she urged him softly and conciliatory. "I just wanted to know if you could still survive when it mattered."  
To his own amazement, he did as she asked without complaint. She took him by the hand, like a child, and pulled him along to the bag where her Labrys lay. Together they settled on the floor and began to clean the blade of the Ivanhoe of Nicky's blood.  
"Andromache, I want to live so badly, but not at this price. Not only has the fucking world changed, I've changed."  
"And that one over there is worth it? Are you sure about that?"  
Andromache cast a thoughtful glance at McLeod and Dawson.  
Methos relaxed and that rare smile that made him seem very young came over his face. Andromache wondered for the umpteenth time how old Methos could have been when he first died. At that moment he seemed very frank with her, and she knew that he was not very often so frank.  
"You were always right. We can't do without attachments. Sometimes I wish I could dream about my kind as much as you do."  
From one moment to the next he became serious.  
"Yes, oh yes! He's worth it. For whatever that counts for. Are we still friends?"  
Andromache nodded thoughtfully.  
"We never were, Methos. Anything but friends. Try to stay alive. We have few solid cornerstones to rely on."  
"Yes, that is true. If you come looking for me, I'll be there. Stick to it too."  
She smiled, wrapped an arm around his slender figure and pulled him towards the improvised buffet.  
"If we're not careful now, old man, Joe will have eaten it all. Is that any good, what your Duncan generally drags in?"  
Methos immediately responded to her quip.  
"Oh yes, generally he cooks really very well. I love eating at his place, he invites me regularly and he also only buys things he's convinced himself of."  
She laughed loudly and switched to English.  
"I see. Nice Adam Pierson has to economise and he also can't cook."  
He tilted his head and closed his eyelids briefly in confirmation.

The people at the table had relaxed when they realised the two of them were at peace again.  
Dawson leaned heavily on his walking stick and toasted those present with his half-full bottle of beer. It was funny that he was the youngest of all those present. Sometimes it mused, had he not been aware of that on the day.  
"To life!" The chant caused everyone present to immediately look to him. "That we may all enjoy it for as long as possible."  
"To true words," Methos answered the toast.  
"To friends," Nicky let himself be heard, earning a slight frown from his partner in return, which he returned with a smile and a slight lowering of his head.  
Yusuf gave him a quick hug.  
"Here's to my dojo still being standing," Duncan said kindly, but one could hear the seriousness behind it.  
After everyone nodded musingly and toasted each other, Andy was also tempted to make a toast.  
"To hosts who order their cold plates from the deli."

Booker's mobile rang, jolting at least the members of the old guard out of their relaxed mood. Andy gave Methos a regretful look and he already suspected that their short time together would most likely come to an abrupt end with this call.  
Sebastien retreated to the far corner of the dojo with the phone and conducted the conversation in short, mumbled words.  
His expression was serious as he turned to Andy and murmured something softly in her ear. She nodded in agreement and gave Joe and Nicky a prompting look.  
Methos wrestled a wry smile from himself, devoid of humour, as he eyed her scrutinisingly.  
"A job?"  
She nodded affirmatively. "Nicaragua. We have to leave today."  
He tilted his head knowingly and bowed his head in a brief gesture of surrender. Methos knew this routine quite well. It was always the same principle, the same circumstances in which they parted ways once again.  
Booker finished his beer in silence while Nicky broke away from Joe with an apologetic smile and crossed the few steps between himself and Methos.  
Yusuf nodded to him in acknowledgement and began to take Nicky's discarded weapons.  
The Italian lapsed into his own language, not the typical modern Italian, he now spoke Ligurian, using the old Genoese dialect of his homeland and hoping Methos understood it too.  
"I don't hold what happened today against you, Adam. I want you to realise that. It would have been nicer if you hadn't killed me so damn painfully. Or if I could have done without death altogether, but that incident is history to me now."  
Methos smiled with relief, but cast a doubtful glance at Joe, who stared back just as earnestly.  
"That's fine, Nicky. I'm just afraid the same won't be true for Yusuf."  
Nicolo gave him a mischievous smile, secretly pleased with Adam's flawless Ligurian.  
"You know him. He hasn't changed that much in the last few centuries. He's vindictive, yes. He's been grieving over your little history together in Al-Andalus for a few years, but give him some time and he'll settle down. I will see to that."  
Methos frowned in confusion. The few days he had spent in Al-Andalus with Yusuf, the time they had spent together, the stormy nights of a desperate passion confined to such an eerily short time in the lives of two immortals, Nicky clearly knew about all that. And quite as Andy had predicted, he seemed little surprised and much less annoyed by this romance they shared.  
He raised his right hand promptly to shake Methos' hand in farewell.  
"Do me a favour and keep your head a while longer. Then maybe in a few years we'll be drinking Scythian ale again in some bar."  
The addressed man could hardly do anything but shake Nicky's hand and nod with a laugh of relief.  
"Maybe I'll try my hand at a recipe from Genoa."  
"Oh," Nicolo replied, shaking his head, "please don't. The beer from Italy is just awful. When the time really comes, I'd better bring a good grappa."  
With these words he turned and accepted his sword from Yusuf.

"We must be going," Andy interjected, turning to the Highlander, "it was interesting meeting you. I've rarely trained with someone so good." With a quick glance at Dawson, she added, "and with you, it's a shame you're mortal. My respect, Dawson."  
Dawson nodded sceptically and managed a "Likewise."  
Andy exchanged another quick glance with Methos, which he returned just as seriously and stoically.  
Then she gestured towards the door and within no time the Old Guard had disappeared.  
Duncan took a salmon slice from the table.  
"I almost think we have reason to be satisfied and pleased."  
A smile ran across Metho's face.  
"I'm easily amused, Mac. But seriously, here comes the part of your text where you go on about my past."  
Joe turned away so no one would see the smile on his face.  
But Duncan MacLeod surprised him.  
"Methos, I'm really glad you survived the whole thing, and yes, most of your friends are weird. But I'm beginning to understand that you really have changed. And that's good."  
"Yes," Methos replied, picking the salmon off a baguette, "so is the salmon, very much so."  
Dawson closed his eyes in resignation, nothing was likely to change between his two friends, but that was good. He was sure that these two would never have the final battle against each other.  
That, to him, was the certainty that the world he knew and cherished would keep turning.  
And that was a good thing.

Down the street, Yusuf asked, "When does the plane leave?"  
Booker looked at him sceptically "In an hour and a half. Why do you ask?"  
Yusuf nodded gravely. "I'll be there, but I don't want to leave it like that."  
He looked at his partner begging for forgiveness, but only a smile slid across Nicky's face. Firmly he locked his hands with his lover's.  
"We'll be on time, but this is important."  
Nicky nodded and pulled Yusuf back towards the dojo. At the door, he stopped and let go of Yusuf.  
"Say goodbye and do it right. We don't have very many friends and old lovers to outlive us. I'll wait for you here."  
Yusuf was about to retort something but Nicky just smiled.  
"You're worth it and so is he. I don't have a problem with that. Make your peace with him."

Even Methos looked startled for a moment when the door was pushed open and Yusuf came towards him with quick steps.  
Still, he didn't move, even spreading his hands slightly.  
"If you ever hurt Nicky one more time, you're dog food."  
"That's not going to happen," Methos replied, withstanding the hard stare. Suddenly a gentle smile ran across his face. "But dog food is a bit harsh."  
Dawson relaxed instantly, seeing at once that this was about something else entirely. Only Duncan looked ready to jump.  
"It's wrong to break up like this. With us it can always be the last time," Yusuf added, without elaborating on the dog food.  
With one step he covered the last distance. He almost touched Methos and looked him in the eye. Finally he smiled. "Farewell, my friend."  
He put both arms on Methos' shoulder, nodded and waited for the old man to return it.  
Then he pulled him close and kissed him profusely without further hesitation.  
Duncan's eyes widened in surprise when he discovered that Methos closed his eyes and immediately returned the kiss passionately.  
Finally the two broke away from each other.  
"Keep your head and take care of yourself."  
With these words, Yusuf turned to leave.  
"Yusuf, I never meant to hurt anyone you love. Stay alive and keep an eye on Nicky. This is really important."  
Joe paused his step for a moment, nodded in acknowledgement and disappeared through the door.

Duncan was still staring at him, unblinking and shocked, when he turned to face him.  
"What?" said Methos in consternation, "What's going on? That really was an opera. I'm in the mood to listening to something of queen." He sought Dawson's gaze and added with a smile.  
"I need beer, blues and simple truths right now. Anyone up for it?"  
Dawson shook his head with a laugh. The bar was closed, of course, but he pulled the key from his pocket and held it jingling so Methos and Duncan could see it.  
"Come on, boys," he grumbled reprovingly. "I know just the place to find all this."

Nicky pulled Yusuf into his arms behind the door and smiled at him pensively.  
"Better?" he asked.  
"Much better," Joe replied affirmatively, but Nicky could tell he wasn't entirely happy with the situation.  
"Nicky I..."  
"...I know," his partner interrupted him.  
"But I..."  
The other placatingly placed the fingertips of his right hand on Yusuf's lips.  
"...Yusuf, I know you kissed him and that's okay. It was a goodbye kiss that you owe each other for more than eight hundred years. Nothing more, nothing less."  
Joe stared at him in disbelief for a long moment, then reached into his hair and pulled him close.  
"Oh damn, Nicolo, you have no idea how much I love you."  
Nicky grinned mischievously and surrendered into a stormy kiss before grabbing Yusuf's hand and pulling him outside with him.


End file.
